midnight. Mysterious maiden steals out of a cave and glides away in
a boat over the water; man, the hero, goes into cave, finds a stone
coffin, says--'Qu'est-ce que c'est? Dieu! C'est la mort!' Spectacle
affreux! Staggers back perspiring; meets mad dwarf with torch; mad
dwarf talks a good deal--mad people always do,--then yells and runs
away. Man comes out of cave and--and--goes home to astonish his
friends; one of them won't be astonished,--that's me!"

"I don't care," said Errington. "It's a true story for all that.
Only, I say, don't talk of it before the others; let's keep our own
counsel--"

"No poachers allowed on the Sun-Angel Manor!" interrupted Lorimer
gravely. Philip went on without heeding him.

"I'll question Valdemar Svensen after breakfast. He knows everybody
about here. Come and have a smoke on deck when I give you the sign,
and we'll cross-examine him."

Lorimer still looked incredulous. "What's the good of it?" he
inquired languidly. "Even if it's all true you had much better leave
this goddess, or whatever you call her, alone, especially if she has
any mad connections. What do YOU want with her?"

"Nothing!" declared Errington, though hiss color heightened.
"Nothing, I assure you! It's just a matter of curiosity with me. I
should like to know who she is--that's all! The affair won't go any
further."

"How do you know?" and Lorimer began to brush his stiff curly hair